


Seeing Double

by Redburn



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1990s richie doesnt understand the kids of today, 1990s richie meets 2017 richie, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, LMAO, M/M, also richie gets bullied by himself, eddie lives because i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redburn/pseuds/Redburn
Summary: “You’re alright kid, just watch where you throw that thing next time.”“Yeah, sure,” the kid said, and Richie made a point to look away, waiting for the kid to start walking again and return to his friends. Only Richie didn’t hear any retreating footsteps, so he glanced back over to see the kid now had his head tilted, eyes slightly squinted behind his frames. “You… look familiar. You live here or something?”(or, when two worlds collide.)





	Seeing Double

**Author's Note:**

> this fic exits purely because i wanted to write both movie richies interacting bc,, i thought it'd be hilarious ahahahaha (it's probs not though sorry I suck) and also 1990s reddie hold a special place in my heart uwu
> 
> also just ignore timelines and dates and whatnot and you'll have a great time! !!

It was strange, being back in the place where it all began.

At this moment in time, the ground was decorated in a canopy of oranges, greens and browns. Occasionally, a group of leaves would float up in a gust and around the interweaving paths, catching in between the cracks made over countless decades of use.

Up above, the sky was cloudless and pale, warming up his exposed hands and face against the cold nip of the autumn wind. His glasses, tinted to shade away the sun’s glare, were pushed back up when he felt them begin to slip down. There were a pair of mothers sat over beneath a large tree, their toddlers by their feet as they shout at them for attention.

Beyond that, standing proud and stark in the centre of the small park, Paul Bunyan stared out ahead with his looming, fake grin, and Richie tried his best to ignore the distasteful curl in his stomach. He scoffed once, partly at his irrational fear and partly at the town for still having the lumberjack on display.

It wasn’t surprising to notice how little things had changed over the years.

Richie wouldn’t say he was back here by choice.

With the passing of the seasons comes old age, and lately, regrettably, his old man wasn’t in the best physical shape anymore. He was growing more forgetful, unable to perform the labour of maintaining a home for much longer. So really, Richie always knew he’d find himself in this town again. He just hadn’t expected that time to come as soon as it did.

His mother, God bless her, had the patience of a saint and made sure to keep up her reassurances that things would be fine and there was no need for their son to worry. Not too long afterward, Wentworth had pulled Richie aside to make him promise to look after her if things were to turn sour. Richie had agreed, resting his hand atop his father’s crinkled own as he swallowed back the reality of everything that was happening.

Convincing himself it was just to stay on the safe side, the next day he looked into nursing homes listed in the tri-state area, and as an extra step, made a few calls back home on the west side.

The rest of the visit turned as light-hearted as his mother was determined to make it. Richie would stand in the kitchen doorway, watching on as she moved back and forth between the stove and fridge and sink, humming a faint tune that Richie thought she might have sung to him as a child.

A thought, shrouded by something dark and unknown to his consciousness, whispered to him how lucky he was to be alive.

And despite the circumstances of his unofficial visit to Derry, Maine, Richie could be grateful for one thing, and that was having Eddie Kaspbrak accompany the journey with him.

Eddie had insisted on checking into the local hotel in town when they first arrived, not wanting to impose on Richie’s parents despite the claims that they have room to spare. It was nice, though, after a long day of sorting through his parents finances he then had the option of retiring to a night in with Eddie instead.

Occupying the space on the bench to his left sat his backpack, and inside it, a cellphone waiting for a call from Eddie to come through. He promised he would phone before leaving the hotel, with a plan to meet Richie here in this park before heading over to the Toziers for dinner.

He almost didn’t hear the ring, because in that moment a group of kids decided to rush past him, shouting at full volume as if something wicked was chasing after them.

He reached into his bag to retrieve the clunky, heavy phone, pressing the green coded button to accept the call and resting it against his ear with a smile.

“Y’ello, this is Richie,” he answered, just to be sure.

“Hi Rich,” Eddie’s soft voice came through with only mild static. “I was just about to leave to come and meet you. Are you at the park?”

“Yep,” Richie said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m in the middle of a stare down with good ol’ Paul here.”

“Please,” Eddie laughed gently, the sound wrapping around Richie in a pleasant tingle. “I know for a fact you could never look that God awful statue in the eye.”

“Alright, you got me.”

Even without seeing him, Richie knew Eddie was still smiling.

“I also wanted to ask if I should pick up some coffees on the way there?” Eddie tacked on, and the sudden need for caffeine hit Richie quickly. Ever since his recent attempts to cut back on alcohol he had turned to coffee, figuring it was better than a possible relapse.

“Sounds like a plan, Spaghetti Man.”

“Richie, please,” Eddie whined through an exasperated laugh.   

“You love me,” Richie taunted, glancing around briefly to make sure he had been out of ear-shot. Eddie clearly sighed on the other end, but Richie took no offence.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Bye.”

The line went dead, and Richie took a moment to stare at it before putting it away. He fidgeted around until he was comfortable along the back of the bench, arms spread wide and head tilted up toward the sunlight. Moments like this one had been hard to come by lately, so he soaked up all he could, not allowing his mind to linger on anything that might send him into another spiral of worry.

Having Eddie here with him helped. In fact, in the past few years, they had both helped each other to grow; to be the people Richie thought they were always meant to be.

There were parts inside of him, memories; still there but as if they’d simply just been swept under a rug. No matter how much he tried, no amount of struggling allowed him to remember. Some days he could see the frustration mirrored in Eddie’s eyes as well, mouth pulled down as he stopped whatever task he had been doing to focus his attention on the whispers and murmurs in his head.

Richie knew he had gotten off easy, whereas Eddie had to live with the reminder of their last visit to Derry in the form of a missing arm.

Over the years, through the pain and the physical therapy, there were some days when it was almost second nature to his day to day life. But on the bad days, where Eddie would struggle to drive or clothe or bathe himself and he would shut himself off in hopeless tear-stained rage, Richie would wait. Because no matter how long the recovery may be, Richie had no plan to leave Eddie again, and vice versa.

He didn’t know how he managed to find this second chance, and with Eddie as well, but there was no way he was about to waste it.

Suddenly, an object (that Richie thought might have been a frisbee) narrowly avoided a collision with his nose before landing somewhere off to his right. He turned in the direction of the culprit to see it was those kids from before, still shouting as some of them pointed or shoved each other in worry.

After the shock wore off, one of them finally started to walk over to retrieve it, and Richie could hear the boy muttering under his breath – something about “hating physical activity, I mean, this is so stupid,” and Richie could honestly relate pretty well.

The kid bent down to pick up the fluorescent coloured toy, pushing familiar shaped glasses up his nose as he began to walk back over to his friends. But then he stopped in front of Richie, movements awkward as he gestured to the frisbee weakly.

“Sorry, dude. About almost knocking your nose right off,” he said, voice cracking from what Richie could only assume was puberty striking hard.

“You’re alright kid, just watch where you throw that thing next time.”

“Yeah, sure,” the kid said, and Richie made a point to look away, waiting for the kid to start walking again and return to his friends. Only Richie didn’t hear any retreating footsteps, so he glanced back over to see the kid now had his head tilted, eyes slightly squinted behind his frames. “You… look familiar. You live here or something?”

Richie quirked a single brow at him. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to interact with strangers?”

“Trust me dude, you’re one of the least weird people around here,” he said.

“How are you so sure?”

The kid shrugged, his oversized button-up swaying in the breeze, and Richie was beginning to suspect this boy was perhaps not the most logical thinker amongst his group of friends. But then that thought paused, and he reconsidered it. This town was full of some shady characters, so really, Richie should be classifying himself as someone trustworthy, right?

“What’s that gadget you got there?” Richie asked, gesturing to the toy in the kid’s hand.

“Oh, uh, a frisbee,” he said. “You, like, throw it and stuff.”

“I got that, yes.”

There’s some more shouting coming from the group again, presumably telling him to hurry up, and the kid made an exasperated sound and huffed out, “In a minute!” to his friends. None of them looked particularly happy that their friend was talking to a stranger and wasting their important play time, and Richie still had no clue as to why the kid hadn’t left his space yet.

“But seriously,” he continued, “I swear I’ve seen your face before. Like, on TV I think? Are you like, famous or something?”

Once upon a time, maybe when Richie was around this kid’s age, hearing those words would have been music to his ears. He can remember the days when he would boast to his friends after school about being the next best voice actor; dazzling audiences with his voices in the hopes he could bring them to tears with laughter. He had told Bill and Eddie and everyone his dreams to make it big – take Hollywood by storm one act at a time.

And he had, for the most part.

But as it turned out, that life, that glamour… it wasn’t what he thought it would be.

He’d convinced himself it had been enough, that he was content with what he had and there couldn’t be much else he was missing from his life. But he knew that lifestyle, that attitude, was probably what caused all of his relationships to fail, each woman leaving him with the same speech but phrased differently every time.

Returning to Derry and seeing the Losers again, seeing _Eddie_ again, had been what he believed to be his wake-up call.

So Richie lifted up his sunglasses so the kid could see his face more clearly. “You’re right. I did used to be on TV. Not anymore, though.”

“Dude,” the kid almost laughed, “What the hell are you doing in Derry? And I’ve seen some of your stuff. Your jokes are _so_ old, what’s up with that? My _dad_ finds you funny.”

Richie huffed. “Everyone’s a critic,” he muttered under his breath.

“How come you left TV? Did they fire you? That would’ve been shit,” he said and dragged out the word ‘shit’.

“I quit, actually,” Richie answered and brought his shades down again.

“What?” the kid said. “Why’d you do that? Being famous would be fucking _ace_! Not to mention the attention you get from so many babes!”

 _Did I swear this much as a kid?_ Richie thought briefly. “Let me give you a piece of advice, kid,” he said, hoping to be done with this interaction soon. “Being in the spotlight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. One day you’ll learn there are much more important things in life.”

The kid pointed at him accusingly. “That’s what a washed-up comedian would say!”

“Rich, what the fuck is taking you so long?” another boy ran up to them, face pinched in anger as he glared up at his friend.

A memory, faded and distant, made an appearance in Richie’s head as he watched the two boys proceed to bicker back and forth, snarky and strikingly familiar. It was uncanny, almost, how much this kid was reminding Richie of himself.

The newcomer snatched the frisbee out of Rich’s hand before forcefully throwing it back over to their friends.

“Hey, you stole my shot,” Rich said.

“Shut up. You don’t even like frisbee,” the smaller one said.

“Okay, are we done here?” Richie asked no one in particular.

“Huh?” Rich turned to him. “Oh, right. Well, nice meeting you, dude. Sorry again and all that. But no offence, I’m gonna make sure I become _so_ famous I’ll never have to come back to this town again.”

Rich’s friend smacked his shoulder. “Don’t be fucking rude, idiot.”

“I _said_ ‘no offence,’” Rich argued, mumbling as he was finally dragged away to leave Richie in peace.

Richie let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his temple and thanking his lucky stars he never had any children of his own.

After that, it wasn’t much longer before Eddie arrived at the other side of the park, bags slung over his shoulder as he balanced a tray of their coffees in his hand. Richie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, watching as Eddie drew closer, his soft blond hair bouncing in the wind. Once he was close enough, Richie offered to take the coffees so Eddie handed them over. He took a sip straight away, enjoying the warmth as it filled his stomach.

“Were you just talking to some kids before?” Eddie asked him curiously.

“Yeah,” Richie said, seeing that the group had moved on from frisbee and were now walking down the main street. “One of them seemed dead set on making sure I knew my comedy skits were ‘outdated dad joke garbage’.”

“What’s that? Children of today not understanding your middle-aged humour? Shocking,” Eddie teased.

“What is this? Make-fun-of-Richie day?”

“That’s every day, honey,” Eddie said, using his hand to gently wipe away some milk foam that got caught in Richie’s moustache.

“You really need to stop doing things that make me want to kiss you in public,” Richie murmured. He knew they shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from imagining it.

“Sorry,” Eddie said bashfully and looked to the ground.

“Ready to head over to my parents?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

As they began the 15 minute walk back over to his childhood home, Richie took one last look at the rowdy kids playing in the street, jumping out of the way of honking cars as they passed by. A small part of him he’s not entirely sure of tells him they did something good here – that the kids growing up in this town have a better chance to live the lives they were given.

“As much as I came to despise this town, I have to admit some good things did come out of it,” he said as they crossed over the kissing bridge and out of sight of peering eyes.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. “And what’s that?”

Richie made sure their fingers brushed together as he turned to smile at Eddie.

“A fighting chance.”

 

 

 


End file.
